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The Morning After the Earthquake

Title: The Morning After the Earthquake
Author: ladyblahblah 
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Kirk/Spock, implied Spock/Uhura
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing, am making no profit.  And I'm really, really sorry.
Summary: Granted, he doesn't have much experience with weddings, but Jim Kirk is still fairly sure that you're not supposed to wake up, five hours before you're due at the altar, in bed with your best man.
A/N: Another bit of comment!fic from Ship Wars.  To paraphrase my friend: know that in my mind, Kirk and Spock always work things out and live long, happy lives completely devoted to each other.  They use bridge shifts and away missions and Klingon battles as forms of extended foreplay, and everything ends happy ever after.  I just occasionally . . . stop writing before that part happens.  That's all.

Granted, he doesn't have much experience with weddings, but Jim Kirk is still fairly sure that you're not supposed to wake up, five hours before you're due at the altar, in bed with your best man.

Spock is like a furnace next to him, and it's all he can do to keep from burrowing closer to that warmth. The feel of his friend stirring helps to quash the urge. He's aware of the exact moment that Spock comes fully awake, and has just enough time to realize that he's never actually seen the other man asleep before. Then the bed creaks as Spock sits bolt upright, and dark brown eyes take in the rumpled sheets and his own naked body before turning, almost reluctantly, to look at him.


He looks quietly horrified, in that Vulcan way that means he doesn't really look like anything, but Jim knows. He knows without asking that Spock's mind is going at Warp 8, trying to piece together bed and Jim and naked in any coherent way. Jim looks away. Spock's formal robes are hanging on the back of the door, neat and trim and black and Jim's heart aches.

He might not have much experience with this particular scenario, but he's an old hand at awkward mornings-after, in a general sense. The polite thing, the proper etiquette, is to pretend not to remember. He wants to. He wants so badly to be able to do that for Spock, to pretend that maybe they lost their clothes in a freak accident; that they fell into bed together in all innocence and simply slept, two friends who have bunked down together under worse and stranger circumstances. Because it's Spock's wedding day, and he hasn't asked for anything, and Jim would give this to him if he could.

He can't.

"Spock! Spock, man, what the hell are you doing out here?" Jim stumbles into the courtyard, dodging a plant with wicked-looking spines and already sweating three steps outside of the Embassy's controlled climate. "You've gotta get back inside; they're gonna mutiny if you don't."

Spock turns to look at him. His movements are every bit as graceful as always, but just a hair slower than usual. "Jim," he says, and then pauses as though he's unsure what he meant to say beyond the simple fact of his friend's name. "I required air," he says at last.

"Is that what you call this?" Jim teases. "Shit, I can barely breath out here. So this is what Vulcan was like, huh?"

"It is . . . similar. Not the same, but adequate." He takes a deep breath. "I believe Mr. Scott has been trying to get me drunk."

Jim laughs and hops up onto the low stone wall. The first moon is rising, bathing the desert in cool blues and deep, fathomless shadows. "Yeah. Just a funny little Human custom. Get the groom trashed on his last night of freedom. Mostly Terrans crewing our lady."

Spock's eyebrow lifts. "A fact that has, somehow, not escaped my attention."

Jim grins, unrepentant. "So Scotty's been working on getting you hammered, huh? How would you qualify his success?"

"Alcohol is metabolized differently by the Vulcan body," is the answer. "It has no noticeable effect on me, and I have discovered that I do not much care for the taste."

"That's because you're letting him feed you that crap from the still in Engineering we're not supposed to know about. But I get your point." He eyes Spock, the way his cheeks seem just a shade darker than usual. "You look a little wobbly, though, for someone who's abstaining."

Spock straightens, wounded Vulcan pride wrapped around him like a cloak. "Vulcans do not wobble." He blinks, and his eyes stay shut just a fraction of a second too long. "It is possible," he admits, "that Mr. Chekov introduced the possibility of chocolate when Mr. Scott became frustrated with my persistent state of sobriety."

"Chocolate? Really?" Jim's delighted. "I thought that was just an old wives' tale." Spock arches an eyebrow again. "Ah . . . myth. Not factually relevant," he smirks.

"I see. It is, unfortunately,
quite factually relevant. At this particular moment." Spock braces himself on the wall next to Jim and leans until their shoulders are nearly touching. "I was, of course, aware that planets commit a rotation of a full three-hundred and sixty degrees in the course of a day. However, I believe that this is the first time that I have been able to feel it."

"Got the spins, huh? Breathe deep; they'll pass. Just try not to move too much." Spock's hair is glossy in the moonlight. It makes Jim think of obsidian, of ravens' wings, of a thousand stupid cliched things, and he looks away before he can give in to the urge to touch. "So." He clears his throat. "Will you and Uhura be staying here the whole week, or do you have a trip planned? I'm not exactly up on Vulcan honeymoon traditions; fill me in."

"We plan to remain at the Embassy," Spock confirms. "Perhaps if this were Vulcan . . . but I am not acquainted enough with this planet to have any particular wish for one locale over another."

"Right. Sensible." It was so
hot; he was finding it difficult to think past the weight of the air and the thin burn in his lungs. "We'll be glad to have you back. The Enterprise won't be the same without you."

"I am certain that the ship will continue to function adequately."

"Yeah, of course it will. But it won't be the same." He chances a glance at Spock. "Any chance of getting a chess game in sometime in the next couple of weeks? I know you and Uhura will be doing that whole newlyweds thing, but--"

"Jim." There's mild reprimand in Spock's voice, and it makes Jim's heart try to beat faster. "Nyota recognizes and respects our friendship. She will have no objections to our relationship continuing as it has been."

"Good. That's good."

is good, Jim assures himself. Spock's frienship means the world to him; it's more than he ever thought he'd have, once, and he sees now what the other, older Spock was talking about. The relationship Jim has with his Spock, it's more than friendship. It's bedrock, the solid foundation that the rest of Kirk's life rests on, the support for everything that makes him who he is. It's been offered generously, selflessly, and he cherishes it as the wonder that it is.

If a part of him--a jealous, selfish part--wishes that it could be more, that Spock could truly be
his Spock in more than just a timeline, universal sense . . . he ignores it. He's had practice.

But it's hard to ignore the warmth of his friend's body, discernible even in this sweltering heat. Hard to ignore the scent of him, the pale expanse of skin tinged cool and distant by the moonlight but still so real. So close. He can't look; he can't look away.

Spock's fingers are lifting to skim across Jim's cheek. Light, that touch, and soothing. Or meant to be, Jim assures himself as his heart tries to escape straight through his chest.

"You will not lose me, Jim," he says, his voice soft. "I will not allow it."

Jim doesn't know how it happens, how Spock's lips find his, but he suspects it might have something to do with the faint trace of chocolate that tingles against his tongue. And Jim is drunk, but he's not this drunk, not enough to be opening his mouth and pulling Spock closer until he's nestled between his legs. Except that apparently he is. Drunk enough to let his hands tangle in Spock's hair; sober enough to feel the rocky press of the wall beneath him and recognize the slow spin of his head as oxygen deprivation and blinding, earth-shattering need.

It's a bad idea to leave the courtyard, to skirt the edge of the party still raging inside and slip up to the suites they've been assigned. A bad idea to pick Spock's, because it's closer and because they can't wait, waited too long already, waited years and it's all finally too much. A bad idea to forget about everything, about duty and friendship and loyalty in the face of so much need, and the rush of skin against skin, and heat, heat, so much, so fierce as to consume them both.

Jim is experienced with sex, but not with this, whatever this is. A merging, a settling in bone and blood and sinew that never knew it was out of place until now. They fit together like they were made for it, like all their lives and the lives that created them were only ever leading here, to this, to this moment.

And then Spock's fingers find his face, and at the first tentative brush of minds Jim feels like crying. Because yes, this,
this, finally, and how can he possibly give this up now that he's found it?

He's aware, in a vague, distant sort of way, that their bodies are still moving together, that he's coming and taking Spock with him. Physical release registers, is forgotten as their minds sink deeper into each other. It's union, communion, and Jim lets go as the ground shakes with the force of it.

"We should get up," he says, because one of them has to speak. A pause, only a few heartbeats long as he waits for Spock to say something. To voice an opinion, to ask a question.

To choose him.

There's only silence, and Jim eases out of bed, careful not to let his skin touch Spock's. He doesn't want to share this; not now, not today.

He wonders if Uhura will know, when she and Spock have bonded. If she'll be able to sense him there, find some trace of Jim that he's left behind. The telepathic equivalent of perfume on Spock's skin. Mental lipstick on his collar. There's a small, petty part of him that hopes she can, even as the rest of him recoils.

Shame is like a living thing inside of him, coiled sick and heavy in his stomach. The shaking earth has put a crack in the foundation, and he has to patch it.

Someday, he thinks as he watches his friend, someday he might find someone himself. Someone who will be . . . not the same, but adequate. It's the best he can hope for. For now he turns to Spock and breathes deep, because he thinks that he can give him this, after all. It is, at the moment, all that he has.

"Come on," he says with a smile. "Let's get you ready."


( 120 comments — Leave a comment )
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(Deleted comment)
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:07 am (UTC)
That . . . is a very good question. o.o
Feb. 5th, 2010 03:51 am (UTC)

Oh my god, why did you do this. This was so beautiful, and you captured their voices so well and SPOCK CAN'T MARRY HER GAH!
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:07 am (UTC)

And thank you. ^_^

Yeah, I'm pretty sure Uhura's not gonna be too keen on the idea either, now. :erm:
(Deleted comment)
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:03 am (UTC)

Goddamn you, martinis, leaving me in this weakened state. *giggles again*
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:03 am (UTC)
ajfhskj You just CANNOT end it there. ::sniffles::

::jumps through the screen to hug both Kirk and Spock:: (...I kind of don't care about Uhura. And by kind of I mean not at all.)
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:09 am (UTC)
Awww, I feel pretty bad for her. :lol: Someone in some author's note (god, I've read so many lately I can't even remember what story it was, much less the author) said they feel kind of sorry for her, because it's gotta suck to realize that your boyfriend is part of this big epic, destined romance . . . with someone else.

But she'll find comfort in Chris Chapel's lovin' arms, so i think she'll be okay.
(no subject) - missyousofaar - Feb. 5th, 2010 04:26 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - ladyblahblah - Feb. 5th, 2010 05:54 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - missyousofaar - Feb. 8th, 2010 04:20 am (UTC) - Expand
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:06 am (UTC)
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:09 am (UTC)
*offers superglue*?
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:10 am (UTC)
This was great. Can we have some more? Pleeeeeeease?

I liked this sense that they have this *thing* and didn't know what it was, how to define it. And then the definition came--marriage (life mates, significant others, romantic partners, whatever), but the definition was supposed to be for someone else. Sad and messed up, but there was a spark of truth there, I think.
Feb. 5th, 2010 05:58 am (UTC)
Thanks so much! I can't tell you how much this comment pleases me, as it's always wonderful to write something and have someone get exactly what you meant. :lol: And I'll almost certainly end up writing more, because I don't actually do angst. Honestly. I don't even know where this came from.

In other news, OMG DEERSKIN! *tackles your icon*
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:14 am (UTC)
Re: Yo A/N ... OTPs, man. OTPs.

Mental lipstick on his collar. <-- *dies*
Feb. 5th, 2010 06:01 am (UTC)
You speaks truths. -_-

Hee! I was rather fond of that line. And not because it conjures up a mental picture of Jim in lipstick.

Well. Not just because of that.
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:16 am (UTC)
OMFG! you did not just do that! lol Jim is so noble that it's killing me. WHAT THE HELL JIM! FIGHT for him. and yet...and can totally see him sacrificing his happiness for Spock. I am equally loving and hating this. talk aboud angst to the extreme. :) great work
Feb. 5th, 2010 06:03 am (UTC)
Thanks so much! And yeah. XD What was it ninjaboots called him? A "noble, endearing moron." That's my favorite kind of Jim, hee.
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:20 am (UTC)
Sweet lord. HOT. And *ache!*
Feb. 5th, 2010 06:03 am (UTC)
Thanks, on both counts!
Feb. 5th, 2010 04:27 am (UTC)
Adequate? Oh, Jim. Adequate in a love affair isn't any sort of hope at all.

I feel so badly for all three of them here--because Nyota really does love Spock, and Jim has loved him just as much for so long and it's killing him. And Spock comes in an interesting colour of emotionally retarded, but dammit destiny is hard to fight. Poor kids.
Feb. 5th, 2010 06:08 am (UTC)
Adequate? Oh, Jim. Adequate in a love affair isn't any sort of hope at all.

Which is, sadly . . . the point. :( His best hope is no hope at all, because MY BRAIN HATES ME, apparently. Stupid brain.

Yeah, this is one of those situations where everyone involved pretty much gets screwed over. *pets them all* Poor kids, indeed.

Spock comes in an interesting colour of emotionally retarded

I swear, one day I'm going to get someone to make me a series of icons based on your descriptions. XD You have the best way of phrasing things, hee.
(no subject) - anoncomment7 - Feb. 5th, 2010 08:19 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - ladyblahblah - Feb. 5th, 2010 07:01 pm (UTC) - Expand
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Feb. 5th, 2010 04:48 am (UTC)
If Spock can look Uhura in the eye in front of his God and her God and dammit... well, everyone else, too and say he wants to spend the rest of his life with her after touching even a HINT of what being with Jim Kirk is like? Well... he is every damn bit the greenblooded hobgoblin that McCoy always says he is. IMPOSSIBLE, that's all I can say -- this was excellence! Thanks much for sharing!
Feb. 5th, 2010 06:11 am (UTC)
With mind melds involved, I doubt anyone would believe him even if he did try. Because yes, he cares for/about Uhura, but yeah . . . Jim. Destiny, man, what are you going to do?

Glad you liked it! ^_^
Feb. 5th, 2010 05:03 am (UTC)


There is no way this ain't ending with someone not getting hurt. One way or another.

Feb. 5th, 2010 06:11 am (UTC)
Yeah, they're pretty much all screwed. XD

Shouldn't laugh at characters' pain. Bad author. No biscuit.
Feb. 5th, 2010 06:17 am (UTC)
... If you don't tell me this ends with Spock and Jim together I'm drawing my OWN ending to this. I'll do it. *pulls out sketch pad* I swear to God I will.

I refuse to allow it to end that way.

No. I don't care.

*holds up hand* I don't want to hear it. No.

That's what I thought.
Feb. 5th, 2010 06:34 am (UTC)
*looks up at Author's Note*

*reads your threat again*

You've caught me. I was lying. There is no happy ending coming, only angst and pain and then more pain and then someone kicks a puppy.

So I guess you'll just have to draw something. No, no, it's all right, I understand. You just show me who's boss.
(no subject) - afallenseraphim - Feb. 5th, 2010 03:36 pm (UTC) - Expand
Feb. 5th, 2010 07:09 am (UTC)
this was incredible. You have such an insightful sense of Kirk and Spock's dynamic as friends/comrades/lovers (as evidenced by this and your other stories ... that I love), and this, you know, was pretty heart breaking. Ah, but it hurts so good.

This actually reminds me of a short I saw on the Sundance Channel called Stag. Good film, pleasant-bittersweet association.

to be quite honest, I don't always want them to end up together, because that's just how it works. they dun fucked up, but they's gunna move through it anddd figure out how to make it work. the heartbreak is so humanistic anddddd that's why your stories rock my socks.
Feb. 5th, 2010 06:41 pm (UTC)
Thanks so much! What a wonderful comment. ^_^ I haven't heard of Stag, but I might have to check it out now.

I agree, um, except for the not always wanting them to end up together part. XD Really, I'm just not cut out for long-term angst. But I do so love making them miserable when I know that (at least in my mind) things are going to work out in the end. Does that make me a bad person?
Feb. 5th, 2010 07:48 am (UTC)
Oh! This was beautiful and heartbreaking, and Spock can't marry Uhura, he just can't!

I refuse to accept your sad ending and substitute a happy ending of my own in which Spock chooses Jim and they live happily ever after. Yes, that is totally how this fic ended!
*puts her fingers in her ears and goes LA LA LA LA LA*

Feb. 5th, 2010 06:43 pm (UTC)
Substituting your own happy ending is accepted and encouraged. -_- However, it may interest you to know that it looks like I'll be bowing to peer pressure and continuing this at some point. I just can't stand to see our boys remain so unhappy.

Thanks so much! I'm glad you liked it. ^_^
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